


technicolor daydream

by poppyseedheart (hockeycaptains)



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Beginnings & Endings - Freeform, Character Study, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Existential Angst, Gen, Talking by the Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-10 09:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12296025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeycaptains/pseuds/poppyseedheart
Summary: Magnus shrugs one shoulder first, then reconsiders. “How long will we be doing this, do you think?”“The scouting this world thing? Or the planet-hopping-save-the-universe thing?”“The second one.”Taako makes a little humming sound. “Beats me, cowboy. I guess until we’re big and strong and fast enough to beat the literal embodiment of pure evil.” It comes out wry, a little too tired to be entirely flippant, a little too sad to pass off as a joke.It’s for the better, anyway, because it isn’t very funny.//Magnus contemplates the journey, both what's behind them and what's to come. [Stolen Century spoilers]





	technicolor daydream

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, I'm here with another sad gen character study in a new fandom. I've been thinking a lot about Magnus' character with regards to stolen century, and how he might have coped (or not coped) with the helplessness that comes with repetition.
> 
> Thanks to Brenna for getting me into TAZ in the first place, and Katy for talking me through a lot of bits of this little piece.
> 
> I hope you like this! <3

Cycle 79 starts the same as all the rest have - with Magnus half twisted on his cot, reaching toward the door. The blanket is tangled around his legs, just barely covering his waist, and one hand is braced behind him to hold himself up. The lights inside the dorms are off, but it’s bright this time; the last cycle had started in pitch darkness, since the world they landed on had an atmosphere of thick, black clouds year-round, and the windows were dark as a result. It was a rough year for all of them even without the several untimely deaths, Magnus’ own included during the last month in an ugly, poison-fueled battle with a local monster species.

In the doorway, Lucretia has one hand on the frame and one on her chest, a by-product from the first time they’d reset and she’d been startled by the entire situation. Her glasses are perched at the tip of her nose. She pushes them up with an inelegant finger.

“You make it to the end?” asks Magnus, settling into a less strenuous position.

Lucretia nods. It’s unsurprising. She’s never died before the year was up, or before the rest of them at least, usually staying out of the fight in favor of recording as much as possible. “We got the light,” she replies. “Taako did some ‘sweet flips,’ which is how he asked me to write it down.”

Magnus fist pumps blearily, still not fully awake but always ready to celebrate. “Go team.”

Lucretia smiles, fiddles with her glasses again, and adds a clumsy fist pump of her own before leaving the room.

Magnus has done this loop many times. It changes a little each cycle, but there are only so many places you can go on a spaceship. He can find Taako invariably somewhere up on the top deck burning a couple of spell slots, Barry examining the bond engine, Lucretia passed out on either a couch, her own bed, or someone else’s, and the others scattered throughout the common areas.

He decides to head to the kitchen and see about breakfast.

He finds Lup. Her ears prick as he wanders in. “Morning, Hammer,” she says without turning around.

Magnus huffs. “How do you always do that?” he demands. “You’re not even looking at me! Are you using magic or something?”

“No magic, hombre,” she answers easily. “Just superior biology and a killer instinct.” She turns around and glances down at his shoes, which are the same heavy boots he’s had since they started this almost eighty years ago. “Those aren’t exactly stealth-mode, either.” 

“I’m not the only one that wears shoes,” protests Magnus, but it’s half-hearted at best, and he sits down at the table just as Lup puts down a stack of what appear to be pancakes. “Thank you, you’re amazing.”

Lup shrugs an acknowledgement. “Well, yeah.”

The two of them sit down and eat in companionable quiet. This is the extent of most of their interactions, which Magnus is mostly fine with. They don’t tend to work together a lot once they all split up properly and make plans for the year, and it’s easier not to miss someone when you keep it casual. The routine is comforting, if a bit sad.

The kitchen is mostly silver. Everything on this ship is mostly silver, save the garden and the bond engine and whatever trinkets they were all allowed to bring with them. It makes their red robes stand out all the more when they’re wearing them, and it makes Magnus feel like a badass space pirate, but it also makes the only home they’ve had for a lifetime feel cold and impersonal even on the best days. 

Once they’ve finished eating, people start trickling from their respective spaces into the central common area. Lup and Magnus are nearly first, beat out only by Davenport, who starts cycles on the couch in there and generally just stays until someone comes to him.

It only takes about ten minutes for Taako, a chronic straggler, to wander in and complete the set, and they discuss the previous cycle and break into formation for the first scouting mission for this one seamlessly: Magnus up front, Merle and Davenport just behind him, and everyone else clustered in the back with Lucretia taking up the rear, pen poised.

“We ready?” asks Magnus, same as always, one hand on the airlock handle.

“Open her up,” answers Davenport, so Magnus does.

The world of Cycle 79 is shockingly technicolor. 78 had been dark and grim, nearly no signs of life on a planet that seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust, but 79 is so bright and vibrant that Magnus has to squint against the sunlight.

He hears Taako whistle, low and impressed. “Now we’re talking,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, but it carries, maybe on purpose—Taako’s always more of a performer than a secret-keeper, something that’s held true for as long as Magnus has known him.

Lucretia is scribbling furiously as Magnus looks back, but he only glances for a second. Keeping tabs on his—coworkers, team, partners, friends—whatever you want to call this crew, isn’t his job. He surges forward, arm braced as he brushes against the tall, green grass and the poppy-red flowers that dot the landscape, but it doesn’t hurt, and he keeps moving. 

Day one proceeds like that: with Magnus leading the charge, plunging again and again into the unknown. Sometimes someone will tug at his elbow or ask him to slow down if something seems unsafe, but Magnus shrugs them off.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” he asks around dinnertime as he takes a bite of what appears to be fruit of some kind. It’s sour and juicy with a pit at the center, and he smiles around it. “I die?”

He gets a few eye-rolls for that, but it’s not the first time he’s said it, nor is it the first time they’ve had this conversation. The truth of the matter is that Magnus will rush in as many times as they need him to, and a few times besides. It’s fearless, sure, but fear loses its potency after the seventh or eighth time you bite the dust, and for all that Magnus has lived twice over now, he’s still _young_. His body is practically at its prime, and he only gets better at fighting the more he trains. It’s silly to be afraid of things. Things should be afraid of _him_.

The whole first week looks much the same. They get far enough away that they can’t see the ship anymore and then keep pressing forward. The greenery and foliage here is incredible; all manner of flora seem to coexist with no issue, and they haven’t run into any animals or sentient creatures yet. That doesn’t mean they aren’t here, but the planet looks so undisturbed by any creature’s presence that it’s as good a guess as any.

On day seven, they set up a rudimentary camp and then split up, Lucretia bringing Barry and Lup into her tent to go over theories about chemical compounds and the physics of this world where their steps all seem lighter than they were before. Merle and Davenport split off to do who-knows-what, and that just leaves Taako and Magnus sitting by the fire.

“You bored of this place yet?” asks Taako, leaning dramatically against the pile of firewood they collected in the forest on days three and four.

Magnus looks up. “What? No, it’s cool.”

Taako snorts. “You haven’t found anything to kill yet,” he counters. “You can’t tell me this peaceful paradise is revving your engines. Zero to sixty in a place this quiet? No way.”

Magnus makes a face. He can’t tell if that was an innuendo or not, but either way he wasn’t into it. “It’s nice,” he says after a pause. “I don’t know. It’s not _bad_.” He can’t go on to explain why he feels so sad all of a sudden, or so acutely aware of the unfamiliar landscape. Magnus is a fighter, but he’s not bloodthirsty. He doesn’t hate the peace here. And Taako doesn’t mean anything by it, but the assumption there is hard to swallow.

In the muddy evening, the sun goes down and the grass rustles and it’s the only sound Magnus can hear aside from Taako systematically ripping out the tall brush around his hips. When Magnus looks up at the wide expanse of the sky, his throat gets tight. 

Some more quiet, and then Taako finally speaks. “Lots of stars out here, huh?”

“Yeah,” answers Magnus slowly.

Taako shifts, then sits down next to Magnus on the log they’d turned into a bench. Magnus scoots over a little, belatedly. “Penny for your thoughts?” asks Taako. It’s one of those stupid sayings he made up when he was big into writing and philosophy and getting famous for saying things in a catchy way a few handfuls of cycles back. It’s meaningless, but still Magnus knows what he means. If these years have taught him anything, it’s that you never run out of different and new ways to communicate.

Magnus shrugs one shoulder first, then reconsiders. “How long will we be doing this, do you think?”

“The scouting this world thing? Or the planet-hopping-save-the-universe thing?”

“The second one.”

Taako makes a little humming sound. “Beats me, cowboy. I guess until we’re big and strong and fast enough to beat the literal embodiment of pure evil.” It comes out wry, a little too tired to be entirely flippant, a little too sad to pass off as a joke.

It’s for the better, anyway, because it isn’t very funny.

They sit in silence for a bit longer before Magnus gets up. “Gonna check on the tents, make sure they don’t blow away during the night. Wanna help?”

“Not at all,” answers Taako, exactly as expected, and something slots back into place that Magnus hadn’t even realized had fallen out of it.

The next days progress in much the same way, just without quite so many existential crises, until they figure out their assignments for the year. They still haven’t been able to find sentient life, so Magnus volunteers for his usual Seeking the Light duty while continuing to train, this time with Merle to learn more about botany (in what hopefully is a non-horrifying way, because seriously, _yuck_ ). 

The two of them set off with Lucretia and Barry in tow on a crisp morning as the sun is just barely starting to rise. Merle points out anything he recognizes in the flora of the area that leads them North. According to Barry’s calculations, this planet is actually quite small and quite young compared to their home planet, so it shouldn’t take them longer than a couple of months to traverse it from pole to pole—or whatever constitutes a pole in a place like this. Magnus has long since accepted that his context for the universe isn’t exactly all encompassing, but he’ll leave the philosophizing to Lucretia.

For the first couple of weeks, they stick to shop talk. Every night is a debrief and every morning is a game plan, and this makes things run smoothly because there’s no choice but to push forward. 

During the next month, conversation veers toward existential questions. Barry wonders aloud if they’re really alive, not because he thinks they’re dead but because no other creature dies and comes back to life like they’ve done so many times. There’s no precedent. Barry hasn’t given up on the science of this yet, and his steadfast determination to pick apart their situation helps the rest of them bolster their own efforts to get to whatever’s waiting for them at the end of this.

Magnus never thought he would live forever. He still doesn’t think that, really, but the possibility looms. This could be the rest of his life—not quite the same thing over and over, but something close to it.

He doesn’t know how he feels about that, or about the possible alternatives.

One night, about two thirds of the way through the cycle, Magnus wakes up to a murmured conversation by the fire. It must still be the middle of the night. He feels groggy.

“What you’re saying,” Lucretia’s tone is urgent, “changes everything. Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not,” answers Barry. He sounds frustrated. Magnus creaks an eye open, and he can see that Barry has a hand in his hair, twisting the strands around his fingers. 

Lucretia sighs, hand twitching for her journal. “You have to be sure.”

“Big claim to make,” chimes in Merle. “If it’s true, though…” He whistles, low. “Not sure I even remember how to consider death an ending after everything we’ve been through.”

Magnus makes a show of rustling his sleeping back before sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “If what’s true?” he asks. His voice rasps, still sleep-rough, and he winces and takes a swig from the cask of water by his pack.

“If the ship can break down,” answers Barry. “The Starblaster wasn’t built to last a millennium. How do we know it’ll get us past even one century? It’s looked fine so far, but I don’t know if we can be sure that it will be fine forever, and if it’s not, then that’s it for us unless we can save a world permanently. I’d like to think that light is ultimately stronger than darkness, but not even light can escape black holes.”

“Deep,” comments Merle.

Barry flips him off, more of an automatic response than an active decision.

“Huh,” says Magnus. “I mean, yeah.”

Lucretia’s right eyebrow twitches. “Yeah?” _That’s all you’re going to say?_ goes unspoken, but they all hear it.

“Well,” says Magnus, “I guess it makes sense. How do you beat an enemy that uses its weakness to get stronger? Feels like all we’ve got is time to figure it out, but if we’re gonna die for real someday then it might not be enough.”

“Right,” agrees Barry.

Looking around the small group, everyone looks older than they are, like these 79 borrowed years are collecting more and more of their debts the closer they get to anything resembling an answer. Magnus, just 19 himself, wonders if he himself looks older to the rest of them, too. It seems impossible, but he and Lucretia are nearly the same age, and she looks so, so tired.

It’s honestly too much to process all at once. “I’m going back to sleep, then,” says Magnus.

A beat of silence.

“Goodnight,” says Lucretia. 

It doesn’t take much for Magnus, already drowsy, to fall back asleep.

The next morning, he wakes to find Merle cooking more of the edible plants they’ve found scattered around the planet—and thank the gods, because starving to death slowly is one of Magnus’ least favorite ways to go—and whistling to himself as he tosses the leaves in the pan.

During breakfast, the conversation stays carefully neutral, and remains that way all the way up until they decide, downtrodden and exhausted, to meet back up with the others, just two weeks before the year is over.

“So?” asks Lup when she sees them pushing through the thick brush surrounding the camp.

Barry just shakes his head, and that about sums it up.

“Not great,” comments Taako, but there’s little heat in it. Magnus wouldn’t blame him even if there was.

The year ends like any other, which is to say: with death. The hunger would almost be beautiful if it weren’t so horrifying, and this is something Magnus notes every cycle. Its opalescent sheen is insect-like, and its sheer scale is awful and awe-inspiring. 

His weapons feel tiny in comparison, like children’s toys. Magnus would love nothing more than to kill this thing once and for all, and they’re getting closer, but he’s not enough. As a team, they’re not enough.

It takes hours, but they drop, slowly, surely, one by one, as Davenport waits on the ship to sail out. It’s just Magnus and Taako left on-planet at the end, Magnus landing hits fueled by rage and Taako slinging spells in a desperate frenzy.

Nothing works. It never does.

Magnus punches, hard, launching himself bodily at its pitch black center, and then he’s swallowed into darkness from one heartbeat to the next.

He wakes up half-twisted on his cot, reaching toward the door. The blanket is tangled around his legs, just barely covering his waist, and one hand is braced behind him to hold himself up.

The sense of loss that comes with dying never really disappears.

Lucretia pushes up her glasses from the doorway. “We’ll get them next time,” she says, though she doesn’t sound quite as sure about it as she could.

“Next time,” echoes Magnus. When he closes his eyes, the opalescent patterns of the Hunger seem to flash against his eyelids, an ugly, unnecessary reminder of what they’re fighting.

Next time, he tells himself, pushing up out of the cot. _This_ time. He’ll run a few laps of the ship first, enough that he feels the burn in his legs and the relief of the sensation of doing _something_ , and then he’ll join the group to discuss what went wrong. They’ll go over it all, even the parts that feel raw, and then the seven of them, no matter how hopeless or exhausted, will get up and try all over again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on twitter @poppyseedheart, and tumblr @teamokdynamite. Come say hi!


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